Émilie Dequenne is the young actor who made a powerful debut in the Dardenne brothers' prize-winning film Rosetta in 1999, and what a superb performance she gives now in this inexpressibly painful drama, with a classic resonance, which Belgian director and co-writer Joachim Lafosse based on a news story. She plays Murielle, a young woman who has fallen in love with Mounir, a trainee immigrant doctor from Morocco: a very good, open performance from Tahar Rahim, from A Prophet. They get married, but Mounir's domestic situation is very strange: he lives with his adoptive father, wealthy GP André Pinget, played by Niels Arestrup, who has also agreed to marry Mounir's elder sister to give her an EU passport, but whose own romantic and emotional life has been sublimated into this desire for domestic control. Murielle and Mounir must now live with Pinget and accept his charity, and when Murielle falls ill, she must accept his oppressive world of unethical prescriptions and referrals. Clearly, Pinget has a strange, dysfunctional need to impose his will on families, and there might be something weirdly colonial going on as well. Murielle goes on to have four children, but feels trapped and clinically depressed. The continued sequence in which Murielle begins to cry as she sings along to a sad song on the car radio is all too convincingly real, and the situation itself, though bizarre, is chillingly plausible.